


And the Ball Drops

by charleybradburies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Brother-Sister Relationships, Companion Piece, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/F, Female Homosexuality, Female-Centric, Femslash, First Kiss, Impala, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied Sexual Content, LGBTQ Female Character, New Year's Eve, Not Canon Compliant, Snow, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The switch from 2013 to 2014 is Dorothy's first New Year's in a long time, but she gets some help with making the most of it.</p><p>Companion to 'A Relatively Merry Christmas.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Ball Drops

 

For one of the first times in a long time, Dorothy takes a long, deep breath, taking in the view from the lookout.

"It really is beautiful from up here," she says.

"Truly," Cas agrees, absentmindly stroking Dean's palm as it lays on his leg. 

"I, for one, am surprised Lebanon has a celebration," Dean says, and Charlie laughs.

"It's a new year here, too, Dean!"

"I know that! Just figured a town of three hundred wouldn't end up doing much. Nothing extravagant, at least."

"Hey, if your Christmas decorations are any indication of what small numbers can do, I can dig this," Dorothy replies.

Dean chuckles, his last sip of beer trickling down his chin.

"That was an indication of what Charlie can do, which, on a bad day, is more than most people."

"I have bad days?" Charlie asks rhetorically.

"Eh, a couple weeks ago you fell out of bed and hit your head."

"And?" Dorothy urges.

"I ended up making coffee that morning; can you believe that? Yeah, horrible day on Charlie-terms," Dean says, barely remaining serious, and all four devolve into gleeful laughter. Charlie changes her position on the Impala's hood, her head resting on Dean's shoulder, and he moves to lay his right arm around her neck, his left having drifted from Cas' shoulder down to his waist. 

"You know, back in my day, things weren't quite this….bright," Dorothy ponders. "Well, the clothing was. People got real dressed up for this sort of thing. I don't think half the kids we drove by had so much as brushed their hair!"

"You'd be surprised how swiftly the times change," Cas sighs, digging in the cooler to his left and answering Charlie's gesture for another drink.

"So what…important traditions are there nowadays?" Dorothy continues, nudging Charlie playfully.

"Football, fancy drinks, raunchy music, glasses with the year on 'em. Fireworks, parades, concerts, the ball drop, toasting to everything you could think of, and of course, resolutions. Auld Lang Syne, too, if you're into that kind of thing," Charlie lists, and Dean gives her a curious glance.

"Oh sister, you are forgetting something," he teases flamboyantly, and it brings a tinge of red to Charlie's face, but even before she can speak, the crowd in Lebanon overpowers the music roaring from Town Square.

"5…4…3…2…"

There isn't time for awkwardness, thank God, because Dean and Cas practically have to will themselves not to kiss before the countdown ends, and Dorothy pulls Charlie into her without a second thought. Hands already running through each other's hair, neither woman has far to move before the festivities of Lebanon become irrelevant, the spark of tongue on tongue and lips against lips being all the fireworks they could need. 

Cas is overheating in Dean's leather jacket, and as he reaches to pull it off his lips pull away from Dean's for a moment, and he observes the celebration of his friends. Dean starts to reach to rub Charlie's shoulder, but Cas grabs his hand and places it on the back of his neck, figuring they deserved some privacy for now. Dean would have plenty of time later to play his brotherly role; now was not the time.

It's a good few minutes before Charlie returns to consciousness of the outside world, as a snowflake graces her cheek. The sensation is soon brushed away by Dorothy's calloused yet soft hand, only for the snow to begin to fall like the rain near the eye of a hurricane: heavy, hurried and harsh.

The four manage to shuffle all their things back into the Impala at almost-record speeds, and scoot into the seats. Even with the doors slammed shut, the shouts of soaking citizens fill the icy air. Seatbelts are clicked and hands are held, and Dean makes the drive back to the bunker in only a couple minutes more than it would have been otherwise. He and Cas scurry out of the car, but just as Charlie reaches to open her door he drops his keys on the dashboard, giving her an understanding wink.

"Happy New Year, ladies," he chuckles, shuts the driver's side door, and walks away to exit the garage, hand in the far back pocket of the jeans Cas is wearing (for now). Compulsively, Charlie climbs over in the front seat, locks the car, and slips in the mix she'd made for Dean a while back. She hastily discards her jacket in the passenger seat, and Dorothy helps her climb back into the backseat so that Charlie's kneeling over her as they shed the remainder of their garments.

 


End file.
